Chapter C: S. Q (5)

At Aix la Chapelle, a celebrated Master of Music, a doctor in the science, and a great composer, was seized with a fever, which increasing daily, became perpetual: On the 9th day he fell into a very violent delirium, accompanied with shrieks, tears, panics, and a perpetual wakefulness, almost without any intermission. On the third day of his delirium, one of those natural instincts, which, it is said, cause the brute animals, when sick, to seek the herbs that are proper for them, caused him to desire that a little concert might be performed in his chamber. It was with great difficulty that the physician consented to it. On the patient’s hearing a tune he himself composed, and which was much approved, his countenance assumed a serene and pleasing air, his eyes were no longer fierce or wild, the convulsions totally ceased, he shed tears of pleasure, and shewed a much greater sensibility than could be expected or hoped for so soon. He was free from the fever during the whole concert; but as soon as it was finished, he relapsed into his former condition. Upon this they did not fail to continue the use of the remedy, whose success had been so unforeseen, and so happy; the fever and delirium were ever suspended during the time the concert was performing: and music in a few days time became so necessary to the patient, that at night he prevailed on a kinswoman who attended him to sing several tunes and even to dance. One night in particular, when there was not a person with him but the nurse, who had no voice for singing, nor knew any piece but a wretched, stupid ballad, he was obliged to her for even that dull performance, and it is said had some relief from it. In about a fortnight music perfected his cure without any other assistance than once bleeding in the foot, the efficacy of which was held as rather doubtful.

* * * * *

APHORISM.

He who censures with modesty will praise with sincerity.

* * * * *
* * * *

THE VICTIM OF MAGICAL DELUSION.
_OR, INTERESTING MEMOIRS OF MIGUEL, DUKE DE CA*I*A._
Unfolding Many Curious Unknown Historical Facts.

_Translated from the German of Tschink._

(Continued from page 38.)

“I have made my first attack upon Miguel and his tutor. Knowing by their own declaration on their examination, which road they intended to take, I made haste to get the start of them, accompanied by my two servants, and waited for them at the skirts of the forest of ***ulano, three miles distant from the next town. Wishing to make a surprising and lasting impression upon their mind, I chose the most whimsical dress. An old tattered coat, which was composed of numberless patches, and a new embroidered satin waistcoat, which reached down to my knees, gave me a very singular appearance; the rest of my body was naked. I had fastened to my chin a long artificial white beard, which accorded very little with my black hair. As soon as Miguel’s chaise came to the spot where I was lying in ambush, I limped forth upon my crutches and begged the tutor to give me his shoes and stockings. It would have highly amused your Excellency if you had seen the astonishment which my unexpected boldness created. The old gentleman seemed at first to be very unwilling to comply with my extraordinary request; however, when I persisted in my prayer with the impudence of an experienced beggar, without minding his menaces and curses, and did not stir from the window of the coach; he condescended at length to grant my request. When he stooped down to unfasten his shoe-buckles, I perceived a letter-case, lying by his side on the seat, which he probably had pulled out of his pocket with his handkerchief, and taking with one hand his shoes and stockings, I seized with the other the letter-case, without his perceiving it, and put it in my pocket. Then I went to Miguel, whom I begged to give me his coat and breeches. This new request excited the anger of the two travellers to such a degree, that they commanded me to take myself off without delay. Upon which I looked at Miguel with sparkling eyes, and raised such a dreadful laughter, that they were frightened, and ordered the coachman to go on. However, I darted suddenly forth and struck one of the horses so violently, in a tender part, that he dropped down. This had the desired effect. Miguel began to undress; having pulled off his breeches, he took his purse out of the pocket and put it in a coat which the servant had taken out of his travelling trunk, however I espied a proper opportunity while Miguel was putting on a new pair of breeches, and pilfered his purse. When they had done dressing and undressing, I thanked them for their donation, warning them at the same time not to take lodging at the principal inn of the town and to repair again after three days, at a fixed hour, to the same spot where we then were. Then I hobbled with my booty towards the forest, where I contemplated piece after piece, with more satisfaction than a general feels after a gained battle. And indeed, although the deed I had performed was not of the heroic kind, yet it was no trifling action to have demanded and received, of the son of a Duke his coat and breeches, and of a Count his shoes and stockings, armed with no other weapon but my crutches, and dressed in the garments of a miserable beggar. Every one must confess, that this attempt would never have succeeded, if an uncommon degree of resolution, boldness, firmness, and presence of mind had not been at my command, not to mention the seisure of the letter-case and Miguel’s purse, that every pick-pocket would have effected with equal success. However, this action is for Miguel and his tutor, of no less importance than the former. I have gained a great advantage, my first interview with them having been attended with incidents which, for many reasons, will make a deep impression on their mind. I have now the courage to risk bolder attempts with the certain hope of success. Even the conspirators to whom I have sent by one of my servants the pieces of dress which I have got, along with a brief account of my taking possession of them, will look upon these trophies as pledges of far greater victories which I have engaged to gain over Miguel, and for which every preparation has been made. I did not without reason select the spot on the skirts of the forest of ***ulano for the scene of action, for in that forest stands a castle which formerly belonged to the Prince of Ge***, and at present is inhabited by the Countess of Clairval, that enthusiast of whom I have given a description to your Excellency in my last letter. I intend to allure Miguel to her residence, when he shall come to the place of rendezvous. And he certainly will not miss the appointment; for if he does not come out of curiosity, the hope of regaining the purse and the letter-case, which he knows to be in my possession, will make him keep the assignation. And I shall certainly restore these things to him, for I wish to appear to him to be an extraordinary man, but not a pick-pocket; however, he shall receive them no where, but at the castle of the Countess. I have formed a plan to that purpose, which promises to be of important consequences, and shall be laid before your Excellency in my next letter.

“It was also not without proper reason, that I advised Miguel not to lodge at the principal inn of the town, for I wanted to know, by his regarding or disregarding this caution, whether my words had made an impression on his mind, and found credit with him or not. For that reason I went in the dusk of the evening to the town, accompanied by my servant, and dressed in a common unsuspected garb, taking apartments at the inn against which I had cautioned him, in order to know whether he had followed my advice. But alas! I have been rather too sanguine in my hope, for Miguel and his tutor are at present in that very inn: however, I will punish him for it in such a manner, that he shall have reason to repent his having slighted my advice. With that view I have taken an apartment close by his, and I must beg your Excellency to give me leave to lay down the pen and to act, for midnight is set in, and the time for executing my plan is at hand.

“I am, &c. &c.”

The following sheet contained the continuation of this letter.

“Wonderful things have happened since I had the honour to write to your Excellency! My designs have a rapid success, and fortune herself seems to favour them. I had formed a plan to chastise Miguel and his tutor for their disobedience; however, the execution of this design has been interrupted by an accident, which has assisted me to gain my aim in a more glorious manner than I ever could have expected. I had already put on the garb of a monk, which I had brought with me in my portmanteau, had fastened the white beard (which however had been almost set on fire by the candle) to my chin, and was going to execute my plan, when a sudden alarm of fire disturbed the house. The pressing danger not allowing me to change my dress, I effected my escape in my disguise, and concealing my portmanteau which I had fortunately saved in a remote corner, I took with my servant a position which rendered it impossible for Miguel and his tutor to get out of the house without my seeing it. However, my anxiety rose to the highest degree, when the fire had consumed already the greatest part of the house, and Miguel was still in it. My apprehensions had reached the highest summit, when I suddenly saw him and his tutor rush out of the burning building. My servant, whom I had ordered to watch carefully every word and motion of theirs, was close at their heels, while I followed him at a small distance, concealing my face with my hood. They had no sooner stopped, than Miguel recollected that he had left the picture of his mother upon the table; he valued it so high, that he would have gone back to fetch it, if his tutor had not retained him forcibly. My servant, who gave me this intelligence, suffered himself to be persuaded by his love for me, and the ten ducats which I offered to him, to attempt saving it. Pretending to assist in extinguishing the flames, he requested one of the firemen to give him a wet blanket, wrapped himself in it, got safe into the house, went to Miguel’s apartment, seized the picture, which was lying upon the table, and jumped out of the window, which was not higher than one pair of stairs, in order to avoid the dangerous retreat through the house. He pushed through the multitude, who were loudly admiring his boldness, and gave me the picture. I returned it to Miguel, reproaching him severely for having slighted my advice. He was astonished, and looked alternately at me and the picture. I espied a favourable opportunity, concealed myself behind my servant; and stooping down, untied my beard, and pulled off my monk’s garb unobserved by the multitude, whose attention was entirely taken up by the fire. I could not help laughing when Miguel, after he had gazed some time at the picture, took my servant by the arm, mistaking him for me, and perceiving his error, enquired in vain all around for me, though I was not six steps distant from him.

“These events could not fail to strengthen the first impression which I had made upon him in the disguise of a beggar, and to make him believe that I could be nothing less than a soothsayer, and a worker of miracles. This was just what I wanted, for it increased his desire to get better acquainted with me, and made him impatient to meet me the third day at the appointed place.

“Your Excellency may easily think that I was not idle during this interval, and did not omit to make the proper preparations for Miguel’s reception. My principal care was to gain the servants of the Countess, to whose house I intended to introduce him, that I might act my part at the castle without the knowledge of the lady, at the same time I endeavoured to attain a thorough knowledge of all the roads and bye-paths, of all the bushes and haunts of the forest, in order to regulate my measures accordingly, and to take advantage of them as circumstances should require. I also did not omit to train my substitutes properly, for their respective parts which they were to act. Their number amounted to eight experienced fellows, for my servant Manuel, whom I had dispatched to the desolated castle, with the above-mentioned pieces of dress, returned on the second day with six more people, whom the conspirators had sent to my assistance, with the assurance that I could rely upon their fidelity and activity. And, indeed, these fellows rendered me the most essential services, as the consequence will shew.

(_To be continued._)

* * * * *

_HINT TO THE SCHOLAR._

Learning and genius, like beauty and feminine vivacity, are to be considered but as the ornaments of life, the essentials of which are good temper and virtue: and wherever these latter, or either of them, are wanting, no talents, however brilliant, can give their possessor any genuine title to love, or even to esteem.

* * * * *

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

* * *

A FACT.

At the commencement of the present war, between France and Great Britain, a serjeant in the recruiting service of the latter power, asked a tall countryman of Yorkshire, what bounty he would take to engage in his Majesty’s service? the countryman replied that he was his man, if he would for the first half inch of his stature give him a halfpenny, (one cent.) a penny for the second, for the third, two pence, and counting at that rate, till he had finished his measure; the bargain being struck, and the countryman measuring six feet in length, the calculation was carried on for some time, until the serjeant thought proper to drown the affair in a bowl of punch. I find, upon calculation, that the countryman’s bounty, allowing five dollars to a cubic inch, would (including fractions, which of theselves come to an enormous amount) have been equal in value to 27,364,368,033,632 globes of solid silver, each globe measuring as large as the earth.

* * * * *
* * * *

+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

* * *

ANECDOTE.

A gentleman having put out a candle by accident one night, ordered his waiting man (who was a simple being,) to light it again in the kitchen; “but take care, James,” added he, “that you do not hit yourself against any thing in the dark.”--Mindful of the caution, James stretched out both arms at full length before him, but unluckily, a door that stood half open, passed between his hands and struck him a woeful blow upon the nose; “Dickens!” muttered he, when he recovered his senses a little, “I always heard that I had a plaguy long nose, but I vow I never have thought that it was longer than my arm.”

* * * * *

CURIOUS LAW ANECDOTE.

The following curious anecdote is told, in the Negoristan, of a famous lawyer of Baghdad, called Abu Joseph. It marks several peculiarities in the Mohammedan law, and displays some casuistical ingenuity adapting them to the views of his clients. The Khalif Haran Alrashid had taken a fancy for a female slave belonging to his brother Ibrahim. He offered to purchase her; but Ibrahim, though willing to oblige his sovereign, had sworn, that he would neither sell nor give her away. As all parties wished to remove this difficulty, Abu Joseph was consulted; who advised Ibrahim to give his brother one half of the slave, and to sell him the other. Happy to be relieved from this embarrassment the Khalif ordered 300,000 dinars for the moiety of the slave; which Ibrahim, as a mark of his acknowledgment, immediately presented so the lawyer. But a second difficulty now arose. The Moslem law prohibits all commerce between a man and the wife or concubine of his brother, till she has been remarried and divorced by a third person. Abu Joseph advised the Khalif to marry her to one of his slaves; who, for a proper consideration, would be easily induced to repudiate her on the spot. The ceremony was instantly performed: but the slave, falling in love with his handsome spouse, could not be prevailed upon to consent to a separation.

Here was a strange and unexpected dilemma; for, all despotic as the Khalif was, he durst not compel him. But Abu Joseph soon discovered an expedient. He desired the Khalif to make a present to the lady of her new husband, which virtually desolved the marriage; as no woman, by the Mohammedan law, can be the wife of her own slave.

Overjoyed that the Gordian knot was thus so ingeniously unloosed, the Khalif gave him 10,000 dinars; and the fair slave receiving a considerable present from her royal lover, presented him with 10,000 more; so that Abu Joseph, in a few hours, found his fees amount to 50,000 dinars, or nearly 15000l.

* * * * *
* * * *

NEW-YORK.

* * *

MARRIED,

On Sunday evening last, by the Rev. Dr. Foster, Mr. JOSEPH HANNAH, of this city, to Miss POLLY GRAY, of Brooklyn (L.I.)

Let fortune on this blithesome pair,
With cloudless aspect smile;
Nor trouble e’er or anxious care,
Their peaceful life beguile.

On Monday se’nnight, by the Rev. Dr. More, B. PENROSE, Esq. of Philadelphia, to Miss H. BINGHAM, of this city.

Last Sunday se’nnight, in the Methodist New Meeting, by the Rev. Ezekiel Cooper, minister of the Methodist Episcopal Church, Mr. JOHN WILSON, to Mrs. HESTER BLEECKER, widow of the late Mr. John Bleecker, all of this city.

On Thursday evening last, by the Rev. Dr. M‘Knight, Mr. ENOCH ELY, merchant, to Mrs. KEZIA CAMP, both of Catskill.

On Thursday evening last, by the Rev. Mr. Dow, Mr. CORNELIUS DAY, to Miss ANN HAMILTON, lately from Trinadad.

On Thursday evening Lft by the Rev. Dr. Kuntzie, Mr. JOHN AIM, to Miss PEGGY MOORE.

Same evening, by the Rev. Dr. Beach. Mr. WILLIAM WOODS, to Miss JEMIMA SIMMONS, both of this city.

* * * * *

_METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS._
_From the 1st to the 6th inst._

_Days of the Month._
_Thermometer observed at 8, A.M. 1, P.M. 6, P.M._
_Prevailing winds._
_OBSERVATIONS on the WEATHER._

deg. deg. deg. 8. 1. 6. 8. 1. 6.
100 100 100
Aug. 1 76 25 86 75 73 75 SW. do. W. Clear, rain, thun lt.
2 76 82 83 50 NW. W do. clear, do. do. lt. wind.
3 70 75 75 75 75 NW. do. clear, do. do.
4 66 72 75 71 N. nw do. clear, do. do.
5 71 76 73 SE W. SW. clear, do. do.
6 69 72 67 SE. do. E. cloudy, rain, cloudy

* * * * *

ON READING SOME ELEGIES.

Hither your wreaths, ye drooping muses bring,
The short-liv’d rose, that blooms but to decay;
Love’s fragrant myrtles, that in paphos spring,
And deathless poetry’s immortal bay.

And oh! thou gentlest shade, accept the verse,
Mean though it be, and artlessly sincere,
That pensive thus attends thy silent hearse,
And steals, in secret shades, the pious tear.

What heart by heav’n with gen’rous softness blest,
But in thy lines its native language reads?
Where hapless love, in tender, plainness drest,
Gracefully mourns and elegantly bleeds.

In vain, alas, thy fancy fondly gay
Trac’d the fair scenes of dear domestic life;
The sportive loves forsook their wanton play,
To paint for thee the mistress, friend and wife.

Oh luckless lover! form’d for better days,
For golden years, and ages long ago:
For thee Persephone* impatient stays,
For thee the willow and the cypress grow.

[* The Goddess of Death.]

* * * * *
* * * *

+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

* * *

ELEGY ON AN UNFORTUNATE VETERAN.

The loud inclement storm now rages high,
Then why, my friend, imprudent dost thou roam?
Go seek some hospitable shelter nigh,
Or haste and warm thee at thy social home.

Nor longer thy half-cover’d limbs expose,
To the assaults of th’ unpitying air;
Thy fragile body sure demands repose,
For numerous years have silver’d o’er thy hair.

“No home I have!” the hapless wanderer cries;
Say, was thy youth to vicious courses given;
That thus thy age must brave inclement skies,
To fate the vengeance of offended heaven?

No guilty passion warm’d my youthful breast,
Nor foul injustice stain’d my spotless name;
But once in brighter, happier prospects blest,
I sacrific’d those golden views to fame.

Ardent to check Iberia’s tyrant pow’r,
Thro’ unpropitious seas I took my way,
And gain’d her coast, but, ah, unhappy hour!
How many gallant soldiers fell that day!

After long toils, and various hardships borne,
Our gen’rous blood the vanquish’d foe repays;
But now I droop in poverty forlorn,
And mourn the triumphs of my youthful days.

Frowning the soldier told his piteous tale,
Ah! what to him the humbled pride of Spain?
He help’d to conquer, what does it avail?
He now is left to poverty and pain.

Forever blessed be the bounteous heart,
That may the suppliant child of woe receive,
The blessings favouring fortune gave impart,
To me that fortune gives but to relieve.

MATILDA.

New-York, 1775.

* * * * *

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

* * *

TWILIGHT.
A Sonnet.

“The West yet glimm’ring with some streaks of day
“Now spurs the lated traveller apace
“To gain the timely inn.”
_Shakespeare._

Bright Sol retiring o’er the western hills,
With parting radiance gilds the village spire:
In other realms his healing office fills,
To other climes emits beatific fire.

The dusky shades of twilight now preside,
And wrap the Hamlet in a solemn gloom;
The labours of the industrious hind subside,
The weary shepherd seeks his peaceful home.

At this lone hour, in contemplative mood,
Near some remote and solitary wood,
To calm his grief the mourning lover strays:
The nightingale in sympathetic strain,
Warbling its plaintive notes, relieves his pain,
While gentle zephyr ev’ry sigh conveys.

ALEXIS.

New-York, July 27, 1796.

* * * * *
* * * *

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

* * *

_Lines sent to a Young Lady with an Æolian Harp._

Ye zephyrs who delighted stray
O’er every grace which Flora wears,
Hither direct your airy way,
For worthier scenes demand your cares.

Within these strings, in soft suspense,
The latest powers of music rest;
Oh, draw their tendered accent hence
To soothe and charm my Sally’s breast.

Should sorrow ever enter there,
(For merit is no shield from woe)
Disperse the Demons of despair,
And teach the softening tear to flow.

And e’en when rapture’s maniac train,
Shall wildly seize the impassion’d soul,
O, let some sweetly-plaintive strain,
The blissful agony control.

The feeling bosom illy bears
The dire extremes of grief and joy,
For anguish every sense impairs,
And cruel “transports oft destroy.”

And still each pensive hour to cheer,
Let friendship raise her gentle voice;
And when she seeks a friend sincere,
Direct to me the envied choice.

MONIMIA.

New-York, May, 1796.

* * * * *

+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

* * *

CUPID STUNG.

Cupid wanton rogue they say,
Inclin’d to rob a hive one day;
Thrust his hand into the swarm,
Thoughtless little thief of harm;
When vext to be insulted so,
A bee sprung out upon her foe;
Around his fist a thousand clung,
And faith the wag was soundly stung.
He shook his hand, he leap’d, he cried,
And all in tears to Venus hied;
Ask’d how a bee, so small a thing!
Could lodge to terrible a sting?
Venus replied, “How like my child,
Are these fell bees to you?” and smil’d;
“Tho’ small your size, sharp is your dart,
And keenly does it wound the heart.”

OLIVERIUS.

New-York, August 5th, 1736.

* * * * *

_EPIGRAM._

Cries logical BOB to NED, if you dare,
A Bet, which has most legs, a _mare_ or _no mare_,
A mare to be sure, replies NED with a grin;
And fifty I’ll lay, for I’m certain to win;
Quoth BOB, you have lost, sure as you are alive,
A mare has but four legs, and _no mare_ has five.

* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *

_UTILE DULCI._

THE NEW-YORK WEEKLY MAGAZINE;
or, Miscellaneous Repository.

+Vol. II.+] +Wednesday, August 17, 1796.+ [+No. 59.+

+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

* * *

REASON.

_Q._ Cannot we, by the light of Reason, discover enough of futurity and the attributes of God, to secure our peace of mind here, and our happiness hereafter, without the aid of a revelation?

_A._ As well might you ask, cannot a merchant freight his vessel for a voyage to a country of which he is entirely ignorant, and the description of which he refuses to examine and believe;---who puts to sea without his charts because they _may_ be false, and would rather trust to his uninformed mind for a safe conduct through shoals and breakers to the desired port.

What is reason, or the exercise of the reasoning faculty, but the comparison of ideas and the exercise of the judgment thereon? And from whence can we acquire ideas, where can we acquire information relating to a subject so important as our future existence? The works of nature are open to our view;---these indeed are a copious source, but their insufficiency for promoting the love of God and of our fellow-creature, is obvious to any one who will observe man in a state of nature.---If, then, a fund of information is delivered to us, which carries with it all the evidence of a divine revelation, which explains and assists the language of nature, what should deter us from seizing with avidity the precious deposit, and accumulating facts on which we may employ our reasoning faculty to our eternal benefit.

* * * * *

ON LANDSCAPE PAINTING.

The poets, of all ages and all languages, have dwelt with particular delight upon the morning scenery, and the epithets of the dappled, the rosy fingered, the saffron, and the blushing morn, have been not less often quoted, than they have been imitated and read; and to these verbal descriptions have followed those of the pencil; and in these graphic truths no man has succeeded in any degree of comparison with Claude Lorraine. The reason appears to be pretty obvious; he studied nature with so much enthusiasm and perseverance, that he may be almost said to have exhausted her varieties; and we hardly behold a composition from his hand in which the rising or the setting sun does not irradiate or warm his scenes; but the sober impressions of the dawn, those chaste and reserved tints that particularly express the break of day, just awakening from repose; when the curtain of the night seems to be insensibly withdrawn, and the landscape appears to open by degrees, when the colours of the sky are yet doubtful, and the landscape imperfect to the view; in short, when darkness is not entirely fled, nor light distinctly seen; this period of the day I do not recollect to have seen expressed by the fidelity of his magical pencil.

When coolness sits upon the mountains, and freshness delights the plains, when the dews hang trembling upon every leaf, and the insects flutter on every thorn; when the groves begin to resound with the murmurs of the dove, and the vallies to echo with the twitterings from the spray; how delightful is it to see Arachne weave her web upon every bush and the gossamer uplifted by the breeze! how extatic is the twilight hour, which, for a time, hangs balanced between the dispersion of darkness, and the dapplings of the east; and which gives a solemn pleasure to every thing around! When these images of nature arrest our sight, and their charms find a passage to the heart, how pleasing at such a time are the feelings of anticipation to those who adore in his works, the wonders of the Creator!

Of that period, when the sun begins to diffuse his early rays, to tip the mountains with light, and to project the shadows of the hills, I do not recollect to have seen more than one attempt of imitation; and this effect I think is produced in the landscape of the celebrated picture of Aurora, by the hand of Guido, in the Rospiliosi palace at Rome. The distant sea would be undistinguished, or would rather partake of what Milton calls “the darkness visible,” did it not almost seem to be imperceptibly illuminated by the foam of the waves that wash, with breaking murmurs, the silver sands, and pour their drowsy hoarseness on the shore. As the eye wanders over this inimitable performance, the chilness of the dawn appears to brood over the scene below; but, as the imagination ascends, it fancies that it meets those breezes in the air that mildly prognosticate, the blushes of the morning; whose curtains the rosy fingered hours have drawn aside, and between which the infant day begins to peep.

* * * * *
* * * *

Interesting History Of
THE PRINCESS DE PONTHIEU.

_Translated from the French._

(Continued from page 43.)

During their journey, and on their arrival, Thibault omitted no act of tenderness, to convince the Princess she was still as dear to him as ever; but finding all his protestations in vain, and that she concealed a dagger in the bed one night with an intent to assassinate him, he took a separate apartment, still endeavouring by his behaviour to her, to prevent the public from finding out the cause of their disagreement; and he was the more to be pitied, because he could not help loving her still with the same ardency as ever. In the mean time, the Count de Ponthieu perceived there was something more than ordinary between them, they could not hide it from his penetration; Thibault was overwhelmed with a secret melancholy--the Princess would be seen but rarely; her silence, and when she was obliged to speak, the incoherency of her words, in fine, all her actions implied a strange alteration, and made him resolve to oblige Thibault to a discovery of the cause.---He defended himself a long time, but being too closely pressed by a prince, to whom he owed every thing, he at last revealed all the particulars of his misfortune to him, and painted his love, and the unjust fury of the Princess, in such moving colours, that the Count was so thoroughly affected, that he could scarce contain his anger against her. He pitied Thibault, comforted him, and promised him to speak to the Princess in a manner, which should oblige her to change her conduct. “Yours,” said he, “is so prudent and so tender, that I cannot sufficiently admire it; and I hope my daughter will not always be insensible of it, but return to her duty.”

He left him, and passed to the Princess’s apartment, whom he found sitting in an elbow-chair; her head reclined, and in the posture of one buried in thought, her women round her in a profound silence. The Count making a sign for them to withdraw; “What, daughter,” said he, “will you never lay aside this gloomy melancholy which so much troubles me, and astonishes my whole court.---I know your misfortune, your generous husband has just discovered it to me---I am very sensible of it, but much more so of his proceeding; who, notwithstanding your blind rage, has preserved so great a regard for you, as never to complain.”

At these words, the Princess fixing her eyes full of fury on the face of her father, “How!” cried she, “has Thibault dared to reveal that secret to you?” “Ah Princess,” interrupted the Count, “speak with more moderation of a man who adores you----think a moment, remember you have loved this husband----that I did not force you to accept of him, that your misfortune, dreadful as it is, has not impaired his esteem; you, in return, owe him the same affection and confidence; I desire it of you as a friend, and demand it of you as a parent and a sovereign. Make good use of the pity that pleads in my breast in your behalf---and dread irritating me, lest I throw aside the father, and act wholly as a prince.” This discourse, so far from softening the Princess, redoubled her distraction, and she discovered so much rage of temper to the Count, that he deferred, till a more favourable opportunity, the reclaiming her. He went out, ordering her to be strictly guarded in her apartment, and that she should not be suffered to have communication with any one but her women; and so returning to Thibault, informed him of the ill success he had met with. Yet he did not despair, but every day for a whole month made fresh attempts on her disordered mind; but every thing proving in vain, and her fury rather increasing than diminishing, he resolved to free his family of a woman whom he looked on as a monster.---With this intent, on pretence of taking the air, he carried her with him in a shallop, and having got a considerable distance from shore, he ordered her to be seized by some sailors, and put into a tun prepared for that purpose, and closing it up again, thrown into the sea. After this cruel expedition he landed; but alas! what became of Thibault, when the other, still transported with rage, told him what he had done! how great was his affliction! and what reproaches did he not vent against so barbarous a father! He ran to the fatal place which he heard had been the grave of his unhappy Princess; but finding nothing that could flatter him with any hope of there being a possibility to save her, he returned to court in a condition truly pitiable;---the many charms of his lost Princess dwelt for ever on his mind, and he thought himself the most miserable creature living, because he had it not in his power to revenge her. It was not long before the Count himself repented of the action, and his remorse became so great, that even the miserable Thibault endeavoured to mitigate it. At last it wore off, and he began to think a second marriage, and the hope of an heir, would dissipate his afflictions; and well knowing that his son-in-law would never engage himself again, he married, and was happy enough at the expiration of a year to have a son: yet his grief was not wholly vanished, his daughter came ever fresh into his memory, and the light of Thibault, who continued overwhelmed with the deepest melancholy, added to his despair.

In this manner they passed almost nine years, when the Count becoming once more a widower, resolved, together with Thibault, and his little son, to travel to the Holy Land, hoping by devotion to expiate his crime. Thibault, who now thought he had an opportunity of dying gloriously in fighting for the faith, readily embraced the proposal. Every thing was soon ready for the voyage, and the Count de Ponthieu having entrusted the government of his dominions to persons of confidence, they set out, and arrived safely at Jerusalem. The Count and Thibault engaged themselves for the space of a year in serving the temple, in which they had frequent opportunities of testifying their zeal and courage. The year finished, and their vows accomplished, they embarked in order to return. The winds were for some days favourable, but a most violent tempest succeeding the calm, they were so shook by the fury of it, that they expected nothing but death; when on a sudden, a contrary gust arising, drove them on the coast of Almeria, a land belonging to the infidels; they were soon surrounded by the barks and brigantines of the Saracens, and as the ship was incapable of putting to sea again, they were much less so in a condition of defence.

The Count de Ponthieu, the young Prince his son, and Thibault, were made prisoners, and thrown into dungeons; all the christians in the ship were served in the same manner, and so loaded with irons, that they immediately found they had been preserved from the rage of the sea, only to perish in a more cruel manner on land. Those heroes prepared themselves for death with a resolution worthy of their courage; but the infidels believing them a noble sacrifice, permitted them to live till the day on which they celebrated the birth of the Sultan, it being the custom of that country, to offer to their gods on that day a certain number of criminals, or christians.

(_To be continued._)

* * * * *

ACCOUNT OF THE LAST MOMENTS OF THE CELEBRATED DR. JOHNSON.

(Concluded from page 43.)

Mr. Windham having placed a pillow conveniently to support him, he thanked him for his kindness, and said, “That will do--all that a pillow can do.”

As he opened a note which his servant brought him, he said, “An odd thought strikes me---We shall receive no letters in the grave.”

He requested three things of Sir Joshua Reynolds:---To forgive him thirty pounds which he had borrowed of him---to read the Bible---and never to use his pencil on a Sunday. Sir Joshua readily acquiesced.

Johnson, with that native fortitude which, amidst all his bodily distress and mental sufferings, never forsook him, asked Dr. Brocklesby, as a man in whom he had confidence, to tell him plainly whether he could recover. “Give me,” said he, “a direct answer.” The doctor having first asked him if he could bear the truth, which way soever it might lead, and being answered that he could, declared that in his opinion he could not recover without a miracle. “Then,” said Johnson, “I will take no more physic not even my opiates, for I have prayed that I may render up my soul to God unclouded.” In this resolution he persevered, and at the same time used only the weakest kind of sustenance.

After being in much agitation, Johnson became quite composed, and continued so till his death.

Dr. Brocklesby, who will not be suspected of fanaticism, obliged Mr. B. with the following accounts:

“For some time before his death all his fears were calmed and absorbed by the prevalence of his faith, and his trust in the merits and _propitiation_ of Jesus Christ.

“He talked often to me about the necessity of faith in the _sacrifice_ of Jesus, as necessary beyond all good works whatever for the salvation of mankind.

“He pressed me to study Dr. Clarke, and to read his sermons. I asked him why he pressed Dr. Clarke, an Arian. ‘Because,’ said he, ‘he is fullest on the _propitiatory sacrifice_.’

“Johnson having thus in his mind the true Christian scheme at once rational and consolatory, uniting justice and mercy in the Divinity, with the improvement of human nature, while the Holy Sacrament was celebrating in his apartment, fervently uttered this prayer:

“Almighty and most merciful father, I am now, as to human eyes it seems, about to commemorate, for the last time, the death of thy Son Jesus Christ, our Saviour and Redeemer. Grant, O Lord, that my whole hope and confidence may be in his merits, and thy mercy; enforce and accept my imperfect repentance; make this commemoration available to the confirmation of my faith, the establishment of my hope, and the enlargement of my charity; and make the death of thy Son Jesus Christ effectual to my redemption. Have mercy upon me, and pardon the multitude of my offences. Bless my friends, have mercy upon all men. Support me, by the Holy Spirit, in the days of weakness, and at the hour of death; and receive me, at my death, to everlasting happiness, for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

“The doctor, from the time that he was certain his death was near, appeared to be perfectly resigned, was seldom or never fretful or out of temper, and often said to his faithful servant, ‘Attend, Francis, to the salvation of your soul, which is the object of the greatest importance:’ he also explained to him passages in the scripture, and seemed to have pleasure in talking upon religious subjects.

“On Monday the 13th of December, the day on which he died, a Miss Morris, daughter to a particular friend of his, called, and said to Francis, that she begged to be permitted to see the doctor, that she might earnestly request of him to give her his blessing. Francis went into the room followed by the young lady, and delivered the message. The doctor turned himself in the bed, and said, ‘God bless you, my dear!’ These were the last words he spoke.---His difficulty of breathing increased, ’till about seven o’clock in the evening, when Mr. Barber, and Mr. Desmoulins, who were sitting in the room, observing that the noise he made in breathing had ceased, went to the bed, and found he was dead.

“A few days before this awful event, he had asked Sir John Hawkins, as one of his executors, where he should be buried; and on being answered, ‘Doubtless in Westminster Abbey,’ seemed to feel a satisfaction very natural to a poet, and indeed very natural to every man of any imagination, who has no family sepulchre in which he can be laid with his fathers. Accordingly, upon Monday, December 20, his remains were deposited in that noble and renowned edifice; and over his grave was placed a large blue flag stone, with this inscription:

SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D.
Obiit xiii die Decembris,
Anno Domini
M. DCC. LXXXIV.
Ætatis suæ LXXV.

“His funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends, particularly by many of the members of the Literary Club, who were then in town; and was also honoured by the presence of several of the reverend chapter of Westminster. His school-fellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful office of reading the service.”

* * * * *
* * * *

A STRIKING SPECIMEN OF INDIAN ELOQUENCE,

_In a Speech of the Chief of the Mickmakis or Maricheets Savages,
dependent on the government of Cape Breton._

When all the peltry of the beasts killed in the enemy’s country, (with whom they are about to declare war) is piled in a heap, the oldest samago, or chieftain of the assembly, gets up and asks what weather it is? is the sky clear? does the sun shine? On being answered in the affirmative, he orders the young men to carry the pile of peltry to a rising ground or eminence, at some little distance from the field or place of assembly. As this is instantly done, he follows them, and as he walks along, begins and continues his address to the sun in the following terms:

“Be witness, thou great and beautiful luminary, of what we are this day going to do in the face of thy orb! If thou didst disapprove us, thou wouldst, this moment hide thyself, to avoid affording the light of thy rays to all the actions of this assembly. Thou didst exist of old, and dost still exist. Thou dost remain for ever as beautiful, as radiant, as beneficent, as when our first forefathers beheld thee. Thou wilt always be the same. The father of the day can never fail us; he who makes every thing vegetate, and without whom cold, darkness, and horror, would every where prevail. Thou knowest all the iniquitous proceedings of our enemies against us. What perfidy have they not used? what deceit have they not employed, whilst we had no room to distrust them? There are now more than five, six, seven, or eight moons revolved since we left the principal among our daughters with them, in order thereby to form the most durable alliance with them, (for, in short, we and they are always the same thing as to our being, constitution, and blood) and yet we have seen them look on these girls of the most distinguished rank, as mere play-things for them; an amusement, a pastime, put by us into their hands, to afford them a quick and easy consolation for the fatal blows we had given them in the preceding war. Yet we had made them sensible, that this supply of our principal maidens was, in order that they should repeople their country more honourably, and to put them under a necessity of conviction, that we were now become sincerely their friends, by delivering them so sacred a pledge of amity as our principal blood. Can we then, unmoved, behold them so basely abusing that through confidence of ours? Beautiful, all-seeing, all-penetrating luminary! without whose influence the mind of man has neither efficacy nor vigour, thou hast seen to what a pitch that nation (who are, however, our brothers) has carried its insolence towards our principal maidens. Our resentment would not have been so extreme with respect to girls of more common birth, the rank of whose fathers had not a right to make such an impression on us: but here we are wounded in a point there is no passing over in silence or unrevenged.--Beautiful luminary! who art thyself so regular in thy course, and in the wise distribution thou makest of thy light from morning to evening, wouldst thou have us not imitate thee? and whom can we better imitate? The earth stands in need of thy governing thyself, as thou dost towards it. There are certain places where thy influence does not suffer itself to be felt, because thou dost not judge them worthy of it. But as for us, it is plain that we are thy children; for we can know no origin but that which thy rays have given us, when first marrying efficaciously with the earth we inhabit, they impregnated its womb, and caused us to grow out of it like herbs of the field, and trees of the forests, of which thou art the common father. To imitate thee, then, we cannot do better than no longer so countenance or cherish those who have proved themselves so unworthy thereof. They are no longer, as to us, under a favourable aspect. They shall dearly pay for the wrong they have done us. They have not, it is true, deprived us of the means of hunting for our maintenance and cloathing; they have not cut off the free pillage of our canoes, on the lakes and rivers in this country; but they have done worse, they have supposed in us a tameness of sentiment which does not, cannot exist in us. They have deflowered our principal maidens in wantonness, and lightly sent them back to us. This is the just motive which cries out for vengeance. Sun! be thou favourable to us in this point, as thou art in point of hunting, when we beseech thee to guide us in quest of our daily support. Be propitious to us, that we may not fail of discovering the ambushes that may be laid for us; that we may not be surprised unawares in our cabins or elsewhere; and finally, that we may not fall into the hands of our enemies. Grant them no chance with us, for they deserve none. Behold the skins of their beasts now a burnt-offering to thee! accept it, as if the firebrand I hold in my hands, and now set to the pile, was lighted immediately by thy rays instead of our domestic fire.”

[[Source:

“An account of the customs and manners of the Micmakis and Maricheets
Savage Nations, Now Dependent on the Government of Cape-Breton”,
Antoine Simon Maillard. English translation 1758.]]

* * * * *

THE WONDERFUL QUALITIES OF HOPE.

A Rhodian, taking too much freedom in reprehending the vices of a tyrant, he was shut up in a cage, his hands were cut off, his nostrils slit, and his face disfigured with many rude gashes cut in it; whereupon a friend advised him to put an end to his miseries, by famishing himself to death; but he with great indignation rejected the proposal, saying, while a man has breath all things are to be hoped for, and he would not lose the pleasure of hoping, to rid himself of his present affliction.

C. Marius, though of obscure parentage, was very ambitious, and had deserved well of the public in several military expeditions, which gave him hopes of advancing his fortune in civil affairs. First he sought to be made an ædile of the superior class, afterwards solicited for a minor ædileship, and though he miscarried in both, yet still his hopes buoyed him up, in expectation of being one day the chief of that famous city, in which he luckily succeeded: and when Sylla proscribed him, and set his head at a price, and being now in his sixth consulship, compelled to wander in strange countries, in hourly peril of his life, yet he still supported himself by a prediction, that told him he should be consul of Rome a seventh time; nor was he deceived in his expectation; for by a strange revolution in public affairs, he was recalled to Rome, and elected consul the seventh time.

* * * * *
* * * *

THE VICTIM OF MAGICAL DELUSION.
_OR, INTERESTING MEMOIRS OF MIGUEL, DUKE DE CA*I*A._
Unfolding Many Curious Unknown Historical Facts.

_Translated from the German of Tschink._

(Continued from page 46.)

“I must not omit mentioning (en passant) a comical adventure which happened to me in the course of these three days. Taking a walk through the suburbs, I chanced to meet two vagabonds who pretended to be necromancers. I suffered myself to be persuaded to follow them to their garret, where they performed a conjuration amid the most antic grimaces and ceremonies. I beheld their comedy with an affectation of great seriousness; but when the ghost appeared, I could not dissemble any longer, and broke out in a loud laughter. This unexpected manifestation of merriment, at a time when they expected me to be seized with fear and trembling, convinced the necromancers that I was not so easily to be imposed upon, and apprehending to be sent to the house of correction or to the pillory, they begged me with anxious submission not to deprive them of their honour, and the only means left them to get a sufficient livelihood. Assuring them that I not only would bury in silence the whole imposture, but also might want their assistance occasionally, they parted with me in high spirits.--